


The Wrong Address

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: (maybe), Aliens, Anal Sex, Biting, Forced Orgasm, Light Bondage, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Oviposition, Prostate Stimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Scenting, Size Difference, Spanking, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29996112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Rylan's definitely not a sex slave. He's definitely not 'disfigured' either. Try telling that to the immensely huge and immensely terrifying nightmare creature that's woken him up, though.
Relationships: Ambassador/Disfigured sex slave given to him as a diplomatic insult, Tentacle Monster/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: Five Figure Fanwork Exchange 2020





	The Wrong Address

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinykari (meinterrupted)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/gifts).



> A treat for shinykari (meinterrupted) :)

“ _There’s something wrong with you_.”

The voice jolts Rylan into waking from the first decent sleep he’s had all week, his eyelids opening to stare into the dark of his room.

There’s something there in the deeper darkness towards the opposite wall, he’s strangely sure of it, even as he tells himself that’s impossible. It’s only him at home as his flatmate Gary’s away visiting his parents and Diego had given back the key Rylan had had made for him when they finally finished breaking up last week. As far as Rylan knows, Diego’s off snuggling with his new boyfriend in said new boyfriend’s fancier, much more expensive and higher quality bed, not at all like Rylan’s lumpy mattress and rubbed-thin sheets. So. Nothing in his room. Must have been a weird dream.

“ _You’re disfigured. I wasn’t sure at first but now I’m convinced. I’m not going to stand for this insult._ ”

“Er,” Shit, Rylan hadn’t meant to _talk_ to it. But what the fuck? First this _totally non-existent_ voice is rude enough to wake him, and then it decides to find non-existent fault with him? Not that Rylan’s the best looking guy ever, sure, but he’s been told he’s cute enough times to be sure he’s got at least something going for him – usually, according to those saying he’s cute, his smile, his hair and his teeth. Oh and his ass. A critically important feature. Anyway, screw this completely imaginary voice born out of his admittedly overtired and probably a bit still drunk imagination. ‘Disfigured’? Talk about insulting.

Well, he’s already spoken. So he might as well continue. Turning over in bed, Rylan draws the covers up over his head, pretending that his heart isn’t cramping just a little in his chest – because why would it be? Because if it _were_ , that would imply it might be like – like he was _actually_ hearing a voice and like that voice, like, might possibly be real. Maybe a couple too many ‘like’s in that sentence. But really. A weird voice coming from the darkness for no reason. _As if_. As Rylan has already thought, just a dream.

It’s just a harmless joke therefore to inform the dream, “Fuck off and let me sleep.”

A pause, somehow affronted. And then, “ _No_.”

Okay – fuck? Then something dislodges the sheets where they’re tangled around Rylan’s ankles and something _else_ wraps like a rope around one of his calves instead, and drags him out of the bed. So yeah. _Fuck_.

This is where Rylan starts yelling, dignity and the neighbours be damned. This is where shit gets real.

*

“ _You’re very loud,_ ” The really fucking ginormous nightmare thing barely fitting inside the confines of his room has the gall to sound _disappointed_.

It’s a hell of a thing to realise as Rylan hangs suspended upside down, flailing, held in place only by the huge hard thing wrapped around his calve – fuck, a hand; it’s totally a demon hand or a – _whatever this thing is_. It’s its hand anyway, _shit_.

“Let. Me.Go,” Frankly Rylan’s on the edge of shrieking. Screeching. Screaming even. Even if it really, really, really isn’t real. Can’t be real. Horribly vivid dream. Yeah. “Let me go! You _fuck_!”

“ _Tch_.”

He’s deposited without ceremony back on his mattress and promptly scuttles on his butt as far away as he can from the _nightmare fucking thing_ – which isn’t far at all, considering how massive said thing is – grabbing his sheets as he goes and basically huddling in them with his back pressed up against the really rather cold wall. So the part of his brain that sounds like his asshole father is shouting at him for acting like stupid kid – so what, he’s _pissing fucking terrified_. Maybe even with a tiny little bit of literal pissing in there; _shit_ , he’s not about to check. Going to pretend that didn’t happen later, when _he’s actually fucking woken up_ and is laughing to himself – or to Gary over the phone – about this.

Damn it, and Rylan hadn’t thought about his scumbag old man in years. Could have quite done with continuing to _not fucking well think about him_.

Ugh.

What the fuck had been in that last drink? Rylan had been going through the admittedly dubious collection of bottles he’d pilfered from that junk-strewn, broken-doored cabinet at the back of Gary’s junk-strewn, trash-filled room in a sort of belated _fuck you_ to Diego – Rylan had been oh so mature and upstanding about the whole thing – well, mostly – throughout the whole painful break up, but the reality of the fact he’s _really fucking alone now_ had been starting to set in. And he’d got pissed off about it. So considering that begging forgiveness was better than asking permission, he’d decided to raid Gary’s questionable liquor and drown his anger by virtue of just getting pissed.

A bad decision, as it turns out. Rylan entertains a brief temptation to vomit, but resists given he’d just be puking on his bed. And then he’d have to clean it up. So. Yeah. Better to avoid that. Maybe it the – the _thing_ does turn out to be real, then he can puke on _it_.

This is ignoring the fact it picked him up by the leg and turned him head over heels like a – like a something really easy to pick up and turned head over heels. A rag doll. No, not a nice comparison, Rylan can’t say he likes that. Like an action figure perhaps. Or his little sister’s Ken doll back when they were kids, that Rylan totally didn’t ever play with. Even so, a Ken doll’s not really better. So an action figure it is.

Anyway, he just imagined that happening, remember? Like he’s just imagining the whole thing. So when the voice follows on from that disappointed sound with “ _Well, I have to say that I’m frankly disappointed,”_ Rylan follows _this_ up with a

“No shit.”

“ _You verbalise a lot more than I was led to expect as well. Are all slaves as noisy as this?_ ”

“All –” Rylan nearly chokes on his tongue at the realisation that he appears to be having a fucking conversation with a fucking terrifying goliath nightmare he can’t see that feels very much as if it’s hovering over him on his bed, “All the fucking what?”

“ _All the fucking, yes,_ ” The voice sighs, sounding almost – almost melancholic. Rylan finds himself almost giving a little snort of amusement although, really, that could just be hysteria setting in. “ _I’m starting to think that perhaps something’s gone wrong. Because either I’ve been given the wrong slave here or else they’ve intentionally set out to insult me and I can’t imagine that they truly_ want _me to eat everyone’s heads. I am supposed to be a kind of – what’s the word again?_ Ambassador _to your species. Representing my own or something and, er, not indulging in a lovely feast until the rest of my people get here, at least. Even if I really kind of want to. You know, maybe I could get away with it – what do you think? Honestly I haven’t even read the memo yet, so I could be forgiven, right?”_

“Er,” Rylan might have pissed himself a little more at some point during this speech. You know, just because. He’s feeling a touch damp and warm around the crotch area anyway, which sadly isn’t because he’s getting any. Fuck, Diego had been pretty awesome at giving head. When the bastard could be bothered and didn’t fall asleep after getting off himself, that was. Lazy fucker.

Rylan damn well hopes he’s falling asleep on the new boyfriend now, while new boyfriend cries while resorting to jerking himself off in their fucking fancy bed. Ugh.

Anyway, this sick fucker he’s still just _totally and absolutely imagining_ is instead talking about _eating_ heads in a way that really kind of sounds like maybe it – uh. Actually means it?

“Fuck,” Rylan grasps the sheets to his chin like some sort of – of Victorian maiden or something, “You’re not, like, Venom, yeah?”

“ _Venom?_ ” If anything, damn it, it sounds like he’s given the thing Ideas. Which – bad, very bad. It expands if anything, pushing even more at the edges of his room, and Rylan can’t say if his eyes are starting to adjust or what’s going on, but he’s starting to be able to see it better, which yeah, no thanks. No thanks indeed.

“ _My kind are not currently venomous to yours,_ ” The thing is musing, “ _But we probably could be._ ” It seems to turn to look at him more closely, something else Rylan definitely doesn’t need, “ _What do you think?_ ”

“Why –” He actually feels a little faint, “Of course ‘my kind’ don’t want you to be fucking venomous! Why the hell are you asking me?”

A disgruntled pause. “ _Yeah. Why am I? After all, you’re just a disfigured sex slave.”_

Rylan’s shoving the sheets down in a fit of pique of his own before he can stop himself, “For the love of – I’m not fucking disfigured! Or a sex slave! And, just so you know, that’s really fucking offensive to people who might – who might be what jerkasses like you might _consider_ to be disfigured. But _aren’t_.” Shit, he sucks knowing how to phrase PC stuff; heavens knows his old man was, like, the antichrist when it came to it, “Shithead.”

“ _You most definitely are,”_ Scary Voice sounds sulky, “ _Look at you. Five teeny little limbs. You’re seriously telling me_ that’s it _and I’m not supposed to think it weird?_ ”

Five –

What the fucking hell was supposed to be the fifth –

Rylan’s mouth was flapping open like a loose pocket as his mind floundered and unfortunately more words fell out.

“Five limbs? Wait a fucking minute, are you – are you counting my _dick_?” Oh fuck no. _Why_ did he say that. First ‘sex slave’ which – yeah, _sooo_ not going there, and now –?

“ _Dick?_ ”

Rylan’s caught around the waist this time, the sheets dragged away as more of those rope-like things lash around his middle and just fucking flip him over so he lands face down with an _oof_ on his bed. And then shit gets even more real as really hellishly enormously massive clawed fucking fingers start shimmying his pants and sleep t-shirt off without a by-your-leave, and all his squirming and slapping at them does fuck all.

“Stop – _stop it!_ I’m warning you!” What the hell he could do to it, he has no idea. Gary supposedly keeps a baseball bat under his bed, but even if Rylan could get away from the creature, get out of his own room, wade through the crap piled around Gary’s bed and dare risk his health and sanity by digging around _under_ it, Rylan can’t honestly imagine the nightmare thing giving a shit. So it’s down to threatening it emptily, “You’d better fuck off where you came from and leave me the hell alone! Let me go!”

“ _No_. You s _top wriggling. Little worm._ ”

“No!” Of course he’s going to keep wriggling!

Scary Voice only stops when it’s got Rylan naked in a way that makes him feel much like he’s been skinned. Flips him back over so his shoulders and butt hit the mattress and he bounces, squawking, those ropes or whatever they are tightening around his waist and keeping him there when he tries to scrabble away.

“ _Fuck fuck fuck_ ,” He flinches badly when more rope things loop back around both his ankles this time and draw his legs apart, and – yeah, he’s got a bad feeling where this is going, doesn’t like it one bit, even if the sheer _positioning_ of it makes his dick twitch a little in a purely physical way.

Also, he’s sure he can make out _eyes_ now, a dozen of them, dim red-yellow and all of them staring at him.

So. Fuck.

“ _There,_ ” Scary Voice proclaims and something that feels alarmingly like the curved back of a very large claw slips under Rylan’s dick, picks it up a bit and then lets it flop down again, “ _A little worm for a little worm.”_ The blunt tip of the claw traces over the soft head, scraping just a little at the foreskin in a way that makes Rylan pant hard, however he’s trying to hold his breath, abruptly holding his body very, very still. _“And it’s just like I said. Five limbs._ ”

“It’s – it’s not –” Hell, his voice comes out near a whisper when he manages to speak. Weak and shaking, not at all like himself, “It’s not _little_.” Even Diego, who had a fucking horse cock – and damned well knew how to use it, the bastard – hadn’t complained. And not that there’s anything wrong with being less well-endowed anyway! Bastard fuckers like Rylan’s scumbag old man who talk shit about any man they want to look down on by poking fun at his equipment don’t know fuck all. Before Diego, Rylan went out with a guy called Cliff for a while and while Rylan had been easily able to wrap Cliff’s dick up in the grasp of his hand, _hell_ had Cliff known what to do with it, even better than Diego. So _hah_ , suck on that, Diego.

Except – well. Maybe not. The thought of Diego and Cliff is – nah. Maybe Rylan’ll give Cliff a call when this – this _really weird fucking nightmare_ that is _totally failing to freak him out_ is finally over. Maybe he’ll see how Cliff feels about coming over and giving him a good fucking.

Jeeze, it’s been so long since he had a really nice fat dick up his ass.

“ _Huh._ ”

Okay damn, not a time for Rylan’s mind to go wandering. Except it really does feel like the perfect time in some ways, given it’s preferable to being forced to lie here on his bed while some – some huge monstrous _creep_ pervs on him.

“What the hell do you mean ‘huh’?” Aaand there goes Rylan’s latest reminder to himself not to engage.

“ _It_ is _little. But it also moves?_ ”

So this is where Rylan confesses to himself that that claw or whatever the fuck it is is still scritchy-scratching curiously at his limp dick in a way that doesn’t hurt but, combined with the direction of his desperate-for-a-distraction thoughts have chosen to go, has it feeling –

Well. A little less limp, okay? But that’s nothing – fucking _nothing_ – to do with Ginormous, Dark And Really Fucking Terrifying.

“So do my other limbs, moron,” _Oh fuck_. So Rylan just referred to his dick as –

“ _So it_ is _a limb!_ ”

His dick is – is fucking _flicked_ by that claw in retaliation, just off hard enough to raise more than a yelp and another scrabble that goes nowhere from him, kept in place as he is. That changes a second later though, Rylan screeching as he’s damn well flipped _again_ , thudding face down on his pillow, the ropes – and he’s seriously starting to fear they’re more like fucking _tentacles_ or something – around his waist hoisting his hips up so he’s on his knees.

“ _Bad sex slave, lying to your master!”_

Then something cracks across Rylan’s ass and he howls.

“ _Bad slave! So noisy!”_

“You’re fucking smacking me!” He’s whopped a second time, and a third. Even his dickhead father didn’t go as far as to do this, “Of c-course I’m going to – to yell about it! And shut up, I’m not yelling – _ah!_ ” Another smack, sending his dick swinging between his legs. It feels like a gush of blood wooshes into it at the impact, thickening it against his will, “ _You’re_ yelling, moron.”

“ _I’m not yelling, you are,”_ Damn fucking – Scary Voice sounds petulant all over again. _“You’re_ yelling! _”_ This last word is said with a boom that makes the window rattle and several claws rake down the length of Rylan’s back, raising lines that sting either side of his spine.

“O-okay,” He goes very still all over again. Because – because it could have really hurt him then, probably. Didn’t, but. The possibility – the threat – is there. “Okay. Calm down.” Another smack. “Will you fucking _quit_ that?” The worst thing is that it’s still making him a bit hard, damn it; feels like he’s at least getting towards halfway by now. Rylan strains to make his voice reasonable, trying fervently to ignore how it’s shaking, “I think we both need to – um. To chill.”

“ _No_ ,” Judging by the thing’s tone, if Scary Voice has arms, it’s crossing them right now.

“Come on, man – wait, are you male? Female? Non-binary?” Maybe Rylan’s being kind of offensive thinking of it as ‘it’. “What’s your –” The huge fucking _fingers_ that move on to playing with his dick are as unwanted as they are really fucking distracting, “W-will you just bloody well _stop_ that? I’m trying to have a f-fucking conversation with you here!”

Because it’s that or hyperventilate for certain. He’s fairly certain by this point that he’s _not_ dreaming – something he’s known all along, really – and he can see enough of the creature’s silhouette by now if he strains to look at it over his shoulder to really really wish that he hadn’t peeked. The fingers just kind of rubbing and tugging at his dick are really getting on his nerves, just as they’re really getting him hard, the ache of unwanted arousal churning in his guts. Fuck, if Gary were to come home early – please Gary do, uh, don’t come home early. Do but don’t.

Fuck, but Rylan’s getting wound up enough he’d consider propositioning his flatmate and Gary is as far from his type – no offense, Gary! – as they come. Not that he’d want to take advantage – unlike _some_ fuckers – but Gary’s already made it clear on more than one occasion that he’d be up for a bit of bed-warming with no strings attached, and Rylan would make it worth his while.

“ _Why would I want to hold a conversation with my sex slave?_ ” Apart from the fact Scary Voice _is_ having a conversation with Rylan, who is totally still not a sex slave. But maybe this is an angle he can use. “ _I’m still deciding whether to eat your head and just demand another slave, or whether I can’t get away with that as Ambassador. Knew I should have at least scanned that memo._ ”

Okay, Rylan maybe _can’t_ use that angle. Or shouldn’t risk using it; he’s pretty attached – _hah_ – to his head. But –

“You really,” His voice comes out small again. Tight too, with low burning anger and a sort of hopelessness. But given Scary Voice’s massive hand has moved on to practically massaging his cock and balls in its broad palm, just off being too rough, there’s also an immensely irritating amount of horniness mixed in, “You really want to fuck, huh.”

“ _Wow, how long did it take you to work_ that _one out_?” Okay, so apparently Scary Voice has discovered sarcasm, “ _You’re my sex slave. I’d be remiss in not fucking you_.”

“Yeah okay, that’s wrong on _so_ many levels,” So maybe Scary Voice isn’t going to reply about the gender question, “You got a name?”

“ _I fail to understand why little worms think such conventions are important.”_

Well, that sure told Rylan.

“Guess I’ll just call you Bob then.”

“ _Don’t_.” And on that note a great hand totally unnecessarily lands on his chest, rolling and pinning him down even further on the bed, right as something that seems very much like an immensely huge face is shoved without warning right up against his crotch.

“Hey hey hey hey – fucking hey, stop that!” Rylan can see well enough through the dark now to make out that it _is_ the thing’s head, that it seems to be – to be fucking sniffing him or something, if it’s got some sort of nose going on, and sort of nuzzling against his traitorously hard dick and – and fuck.

“ _You smell surprisingly good,”_ Bob informs him and must open up a mouth because it bites him, bites the inside of Rylan’s thigh far too close to his cock and while it doesn’t break the skin, it’s enough to make him yelp. He’s bitten again and again, little nips – or at least they’d be little it if wasn’t someone fucking goliath-sized doing them – and each time he thinks he catches a glimpse of fang-like teeth, he’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out.

This would be tempting except then he’d be alone _and_ unconscious with the fucking thing doing who the fuck knows what to his body – probably eating it – and so Rylan clings grimly onto consciousness and tries not to reflect that the cool not-quite-there brush of Bob’s forehead or whatever it’s got going on at the top of its head feels really fucking good in a very frustrating way against his unwanted hard-on.

Damn it, he’s _so hard_.

“ _You really do smell good,_ ” Rylan is sniffed all over, poked and prodded by claws and fingers and tentacle-tips – yeah, they’re really not ropes – and nipped in all sorts of places he never particularly wanted to be bitten. Bob spends a long time on Rylan’s ass once it’s got him over on his stomach again – okay, and Rylan is going to go out on a limb and tentatively think of Bob as a ‘he’, because that might be bad of him, but there are vast legs either side of his hips now and something pressing against one of his thighs that feels like the world’s fucking biggest, longest dick.

Still doesn’t make Bob a ‘he’ even so. But with a lack of an answer to go by, Rylan supposes he can think of the fucker as he likes and maybe feel bad about it later. Keyword: maybe. Because _Bob’s_ the one here yanking Rylan’s thighs back open wide, almost wide enough to hurt, and then a fucking enormous tongue is running right along the length of his crack.

“A-ah!” Damn but it feels fucking – fucking – He doesn’t want it, he hates it, but it feels _amazing_.

“ _Stop squealing_ ,” Bob licks Rylan’s hole, shoves his huge face best as he can right against it, sniffs him there, lingering over it, and then proceeds to hold Rylan’s ass cheeks open and eat him out with such relish that Rylan’s nearly send right out of his mind after only a few seconds of it. Even Jareth, that pretentious fucking twat Rylan hooked up with back in college who turned out to really get off on rimming, didn’t eat him out as well as this.

“ _Ngh!_ ” He’s whining wholeheartedly, trying his best to hump the mattress and the tentacles around his waist not letting him get _anywhere_ , by the time Bob laps a final time at Rylan’s hole and slides a finger right on in instead. “Ah! Ah!”

Okay, that finger would land right on his prostate, wouldn’t it, and then fucking – fucking –

“Nnnngh!”

“ _You really are so noisy,”_ For all Bob sounds so put-upon, he doesn’t stop massaging circles over Rylan’s prostate, neglected for too long since Diego left. Rylan just hadn’t felt like the hassle of dealing with his old collection of toys – had felt a bit too spiteful to give in and resort to them really, like by doing so would be admitting Diego won over him or something nonsensical like that – and the pressure and rubbing where Rylan’s mind _really doesn’t want_ Bob to be touching while his body craves it is – is –

He comes, shaking and moaning, right onto his mattress. Damn. Fucking going to have to change the sheets.

“ _What happened?_ ” Bob seems a touch thrown. He also rubs harder, fuck, another tentacle going down under Rylan to tug at his abruptly oversensitive cock, making him yowl, “ _Sex slaves don’t get to come before their masters!”_

For all he wants to put his heavy head down on the pillow and sleep off this entire fucking nightmare and unwanted but really unreasonably good orgasm, Rylan makes the mistake of replying a smug, “Well, this one did.” So take that, fucker.

“ _Hmph. So come again then_.”

“W-what?” This is all the warning Rylan gets before he’s shoved hard onto his side, one leg tugged upwards and then that tentacle whips out from inside him, and Bob presses back in with his _fucking ginormous mammoth dick_.

Dry.

“No no no no no no no please use lube!” Rylan gets this out in a breath – little as he wants this to happen, he wants it to happen without anything to ease the way of that fucking giant dick even _less_ – and the tentacle spiralled around his softening cock starts rippling and pulling at it in a way that would feel really fucking great if it wasn’t Bob doing it and if Rylan hadn’t just near come his brains out, “Ow, stop stop stop, you fucker –”

“ _No. Shan’t. I’m the Ambassador. You’re just a slave_ ,” Sulky Bob sounds sulky, but there is a slight pause and a kind of ‘pop’ and fucking hell it seems he _listened_ , because when he nudges that giant dick back up against Rylan’s hole it’s slick with fucking _something_ anyway. “ _Happy now_?”

Rylan’s teeth are near chattering from the stimulation to his already overstimulated dick, “Not even close.”

“ _Ugh why did I even bother,_ ” Bob just gets on with easing into Rylan then, stabbing that blunt dick forwards a bit, drawing back when Rylan’s shudderingly convinced his body is just going to – to fucking _split_ or something, and then pressing forwards again. The feel of it as Bob ever so slowly breaches him breath-taking in a horrible no good also very hot and awesome way that has his painfully growing cock spitting out precome over the merciless tentacle still working at it.

“ _There_ ,” Bob hasn’t split Rylan in half. By the time his giant cock is seated inside Rylan, Rylan’s huffing and blowing but also extremely close to blowing his load all over again, and his hands have detached themselves from their death grip on his pillow to cling onto whatever parts of Bob he can reach. “ _Isn’t that better_?”

“Frankly?” Rylan hates that the fucker almost sounds _tender_ , “No.”

“ _You fucking ungrateful little five-limbed worm_ ,” Bob seems exactly as pissed off as predicted.

“Still not a worm! Or a sex slave!” Rylan yelps as Bob fucks into him hard – if not hard enough to be unbearable. Hard enough to nail him on the prostate, rather, and have him see unwanted stars, “And worms don’t have limbs anyway, you dumb alien fuck!”

“ _Shut up, you can’t talk to me like that, I’m the Ambassador and your master,”_ Bob’s great mass is slopping not-quite-tangibly over Rylan and his bed, engulfing him up to his neck as the fucking thing gives him the fucking of his life, cock driving into him fast and relentless as the tentacle round his cock, between them forcing Rylan into another orgasm.

“Not my master!” He manages to get out even though he’s whining with each gasped breath, closer to chokes, especially when Bob rolls him over onto his back and just carries on fucking him. “Fuck! And what sort of – sort of shit Ambassador are you anyway? Why the _hell_ would ‘my kind’ want any of you fuckers here on our planet if all you’re going to do is eat us or, uh.”

_Fuck us._ Rylan thankfully – _thankfully_ – manages to catch the rest of that sentence before planting any more ideas in Bob’s overlarge head.

“ _Why indeed_ ,” Bob’s already stupidly huge dick feels very much like it swells a bit inside Rylan, the sensation making him shout in surprise and confusion. Exhausted, unwanted horniness too, given the way it presses even more up against his prostate.

“What the – what the hell are you _doing_?”

“ _Eggs_ ,” Bob’s answer is as prosaic as it’s nonsensical, his thrusting slowing as his concentration presumably moves onto the development going on within Rylan’s ass, that alien dick swelling up larger before deflating again and again, establishing a rhythm, Rylan moaning as his sticky sore cock twitches painfully each time.

“ _No_ ,” Despite the seemingly cryptic comment, Rylan’s still taken off guard when he feels the first press of a hard round _something_ against his hole. It’s _inside_ Bob’s dick, fuck – inside it and apparently intent on transferring itself into Rylan. Or rather, Bob’s intent on transferring it. Because –

Eggs. _Oh hell_.

It takes a whole lot of shaking and moaning and feeling like he’s going to die for Bob to get the first one into Rylan. The second after that is a little easier and by the third Rylan’s hard all over again and cursing the fact. The eggs press cool and firm inside his ass; he can feel them pressing up against his walls, leaching away his body’s warmth.

Pressing up against his prostate too. So maybe it’s not a dick Bob’s got in Rylan’s ass after all, but his huge head bends to huff against Rylan’s shoulder, sniffling him all over again, and Bob shakes and groans just a little himself as he gets another egg out. Rylan ends up worming – _hah_ – a hand down to his dick when the tentacle goes lax around it, grimacing as he wanks purely for the sake of trying to help his body to receive these things it has – and he has – no desire for it to receive. Whining through gritted teeth as Bob lays a fourth one and hell, Rylan’s ass can’t take anymore. _He_ can’t take anymore.

“ _No_ ,” He gets his free hand back to push at Bob hard when the bastard tries.

“ _Have to,”_ Bob gets out, which – well, fuck that.

“You know I’m going to shit these out in the crapper, lay a hammer to them, get rid of them by whatever means quick as I can and then laugh like crazy over the remains?” Rylan taunts which –

Okay. Not a good move.

“ _Like fuck you are_ ,” Bob looms over him all teeth and eyes and rage and even _more_ terrifying than he’s been so far, and Rylan’s body just gives itself up to the egg pushing at it without any more battle, swallowing it up to rest inside his very full ass.

“Ugh,” Rylan will probably throw up if he moves. He’s just going to – to lie here for a while instead. He lets his heavy head flop down on the pillow. “Yeah. Guess you’re right. I probably won’t.”

There’s a sniff. “ _Like you’d be able to get them out before they’re ready, anyway_.” At least Bob sounds mollified and less like he’s going to eat Rylan’s head. A tentacle even gives Rylan’s hip an almost companionable pat. “ _There. You did well.”_

Absurdly given how little he wants it – just like how little he wanted any of this to happen – the small praise makes something inside Rylan light up.

“So what, uh,” It also makes him enquire stupidly, too fucked out and freaked out and generally just near _out_ out to come up with the obvious answer, “What’s going to hatch out of them anyway?” And also, what the hell is going to happen about this getting them _the fuck out of his body_ , as well as said hatching.

“ _Hmm?_ ” Nuzzling the bites he’d earlier left on Rylan’s skin, Bob stirs a bit, for all he seems notably relaxed – and perhaps relieved – compared to earlier, “ _You_ know _who’s going to hatch out of them_.”

“No, I –” Rylan stops, struck by a wholly horrendous sinking feeling, “You said something earlier about the, uh. Rest of your people?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Bob agrees quite easily as a tentacle gropes in an almost friendly manner at Rylan’s ass, “ _And here they are. Newly arrived and nearly ready_ ,” and that’s –

Oh. Oh _fuck._


End file.
